My Methods
by TimetoTango
Summary: Dipper and Robbie's new development isn't exactly what they'd planned, but after the duo meet in crime-stalking circumstances, they are soon paired off as one of the most dysfunctional investigating partners ever to grace ye olde Falls. Robbie's Point of View. (Warning: AU) (Edit - Cover image added!)
1. The Consulting Detective

**_Chapter One - The Consulting Detective_**

I first met him on my initial day of return to the town I'd grown up in.

We bumped into each other on a busy street, exchanged polite apologies, continued on our ways. I would have never realised it was missing until he appeared before me, holding my pocket watch dangling off its gold chain.

"I believe this is yours?"

I patted at my coat and trousers. The watch was indeed my own.

Just as I was to shout at him, he placed the timepiece into the palm of my hand and closed my fingers around it.

"Let this be a lesson to you, good sir," he said, lips curled in a sly smile. "Don't trust anyone on this street, or any others for that matter!" He gave me a wink before he turned on his heel. "Young or old."

"Wait!" I called, and he paused to listen. "I didn't catch your name."

With barely a glance he called over his shoulder, "Dipper Pines. Consulting detective." He tipped his hat to me and straightened out against his cane. "Pleased to make your acquaintance."

And he left, as I looked on with mild admiration and peaked interest at this small individual who seemed to know more about my home town that I did.

We met a few more times, of course, in a town as small as ours. But it was this event which I plan at present to detail to you, reader, that had sealed our fates for a while to come.

- x x x -

I trailed my hand over the ground, rubbing my fingers together in an inspection of the dirt in the middle of a shoe print. It appeared, I hoped, very much as if I knew exactly what I was doing.

In reality I hadn't the faintest idea.

All dirt looked the same to me. What was the difference?

I mentally sighed. I wasn't cut out for this kind of thing. Solving crimes and all that noise... But if someone could suggest a better way of receiving pay, I welcome it!

I felt a tap on my shoulder and instinctively jolted, whirling around to face the individual. I was sure I'd been alone, what with all the "proper" law enforcements crammed inside that bloody hell-hole of a house.

Yes, it was quite literally bloody. I'd walked in when we'd first arrived and almost gagged at the sight of the walls and floors. No, I'd rather stay outside, where there was a lot less gore around.

So I'm sure you could imagine my surprise upon seeing the small "consulting detective" boy once again.

"Need some help?" He tilted his head curiously, his hands held behind his back as he leaned forward to inspect the dirt beside me. I narrowed my eyes. For some reason I'd decided at one point or another that I didn't quite like this child. Something about his manner seemed... I don't quite know. Show-offish, I'd say. As if he were better than most people around him.

He collected some dirt between his fingers and examined it much like I had been previously.

_Hah. Good luck, small child_. I couldn't get anything out of it, and I'm sure I'm much more experienced than -

"Hm. Whoever was coming through here had recently been in swampy grounds... perhaps near the lake, in the muddy area? A size estimate of about eight... not a very tall man judging from the length of space between strides..." he glanced upwards, and my disdain must have been apparent on my face because he appeared somewhat taken aback. "Would you like me to stop?"

"No, no, go on," I replied sarcastically.

Apparently Mr. Dipper Pines does not know what sarcasm is.

"Oh, alright then." He went on to describe the color of the perpetrator's hair, which I could not for the life of me figure out _how_ exactly, even to this moment in time as I sit writing this.

I had a feeling it was going to be a long day.

I raised my eyebrows as the chief inspector made his way out of the house. He laid eyes on the boy and turned to me.

"Who is this?"

I opened my mouth to reply just as that infernal child spun around and gave the inspector his most charming smile.

"Dipper Pines, at your service."

I rolled my eyes.

"Pines, eh?" The inspector seemed surprised. "I've heard a lot about you. Didn't expect you to be quite as small, though..."

This appeared to strike a chord with Pines, and he furrowed his brows. "Hey, I'm plenty tall for my age!"

"What is that, seven?" I muttered under my breath as I crossed my arms. He gave me a frown before facing the inspector yet again.

"Your murderer shouldn't be too far from here," he concluded, unfazed. "Taking into consideration the way his footprints stumble slightly in places, I'd say he was intoxicated at the time. My guess? He must have passed out at around..." He was on the trail like a bloodhound then, and I rushed to catch up with him. He finally stopped when we were a few houses away, and tapped a finger to his chin in deep thought. He whirled around in a full circle before ending at one particular building, which he pointed out to the inspector. "Fallen lawn ornaments -" he moved the ceramic gnome to inspect the grass below it "- vegetation still very fresh." He must have caught my confusion as he elaborated. "It was only knocked over recently."

"Ah." I paused. "And... what does that imply, exactly?"

"That your murderer is right -" he lifted his cane to point into the building's window "- in there." He gave a single nod and began to walk away. "If that will be all, inspector, I shall take my leave."

"Hold on a moment, Pines," the inspector implored.

"Oh, why did you have to go and do that for? He'd almost left."

The inspector placed a hand on my shoulder, in what I guessed was an attempt to subdue me. "Why don't you stay on board with us? Please, I insist." And then he said something I knew I would hate him for. "Robbie here could be your partner!"

- x x x -

As I type these words, Pines currently reads them over my shoulder. He informs me that I am a great storyteller, and have quite a knack for writing.

Ah, he calls out my lies and has made me promise I would not write that in the story.

Well, Sir or Madam, here is the first instalment in what is soon to become many recounts of our exemplary tales together. I would imagine you'd enjoy reading it. If not, I don't understand what you could still be doing here, at the very end of the account.

Oh, my regrets. I must take my leave - Pines has tried to poison my dog again.

Until next time,

_- Robbie V._

* * *

_A/N Phew! It's finally done - the first chapter of a Sherlock Holmes/Gravity Falls crossover AU! Now, I couldn't decide between a modern or an olden day Holmes, so be prepared - another version will probably appear soon._

_Yes, I realise Robbie sounds uncharacteristically intelligent. I have no excuses for this._

_Hope you enjoyed my first ever uploaded Gravity Falls-related fic! (Please be gentle. ;-; )_


	2. 221B, Baker Street

**_Chapter Two - 221-B, Baker Street_**

"Oh, dear Lord..."

I stepped into the room following our landlady, Mrs. "Lazy" Susan - of whom we did not actually know the last name of. She held one hand to her chest with surprise.

I trailed her gaze to see Pines hanging from the ceiling by a noose.

"Oh, don't worry," I dismissed, waving my hand unconcernedly, knowing exactly what she had been fearing. "That's not his style. He's _far_ too fond of himself for something like that."

I calmly stalked over to him, and snapped as loudly as I could;

"_Pines_!"

"Hm?" I heard him mutter, and he opened his eyes. "Oh! Morning, Robbie! I was conducting a hands-on research on how exactly our criminal had managed to conduct his little escapade when I found myself in quite a state of sedation." He noticed Susan staring up at him as he explained this. "Good morning, miss."

"Oh, pray tell this amazing discovery." I rolled my eyes, knowing he would detail it to me no matter what I said to him.

"I'm glad you asked." He flashed a grin, spinning a little on the rope now that he was awake. "You see, the man... Oh, I can't feel my legs. Mind helping me down?"

"Oh, no, no, do go on."

"Well, as I was saying, the man had concealed a hook in the hangman's knot... Robbie, please, might this be continued at a less detrimental level?"

"What effect did this hook have?" I countered, completely ignoring his plea.

"I can't feel my cheeks..." he informed, attempting to move his arm in order to touch his face.

"How did this hook manage to stop him from demise?" I pressed.

"Well, he had the executioner attach it to a harness, allowing the distribution of the weight mostly along his waist, thus leaving his neck intact. Robbie, I implore you. Get me down from here."

We were knee-deep in yet another case, evidently. But that is a story for another time.

This time, I believe I shall tell you all about how we came to terms with a living arrangement, and how I had somehow been daft enough to accept residing with Pines.

- x x x -

Since the day of my ungraceful situating with the small sleuth, I had a long an uneventful week which included no less than two petty thefts and a runaway daughter who had eventually returned to her home when her hunger got the best of her.

And since there was nothing to solve, there too was no payment for me to receive.

Ergo, I was facing the serious threat of losing my house.

I'd lived alone for quite some time, and for almost as long I'd been rather low on sums. Taking this job was basically my last chance. And now, - as terrible as it sounds - I found myself hoping for some sort of crime. Not a horrible, dastardly deed, of course, but just something to make me enough to pay my bills.

I raised my hand and hailed a hansom, for I had a long way to go and not much time if I wished to reach my occupation without being tardy. I climbed in and sat back, my nerves blazing away.

Only upon the realization of my destination not being too far off, I checked my wallet and was despaired to find I had hardly enough money to pay the gentleman driver, let alone the upcoming landlord bill. I sighed deeply.

"Something the matter?" I heard, and glanced upwards from my funds and towards the sound of the voice. Embarrassed, I shook my head at the driver and ran a hand through my hair.

"No, no, nothing..." I chuckled nervously, wondering how the hell I could not have realized that I didn't have more than twenty dollars to my name.

Upon realizing my stop, I promptly paid the driver - although quite reluctantly - and leapt from the vehicle. I heard the familiar clopping of the horse's hooves as I made my way into the building, downcast at how my financial situation had turned out.

"Hey!" I heard the instantly recognizable voice and inwardly groaned. _This guy again_?

"What?" I snapped sharply, whirling around to see that small detective boy once more. He wore a delighted grin on his face that seemed just a bit suspicious to me - until I realized my wallet had been taken. "You little thief! You've gone and done it again!"

"Oh, please, do calm down," he implored, opening the small leather casing. "You dropped it. I was merely going to return it to you. Hm." He frowned as he separated the empty slit where dollar bills are meant to be kept. "You have barely two pennies to rub together."

I snatched the object from his hands indignantly and tucked into my back pocket, where it would be safe. "Thank you, I had _no_ idea."

"You are welcome."

Again, it was blatantly clear Mr. Dipper Pines could not understand sarcasm to save his life.

I sighed irritably. "What do you want this time?"

"This is great!" He exclaimed, ignoring my question completely. "You're low on expenses!"

I opened my mouth in a fierce display of confused anger. "Excuse me? Just _what_ do you think you're on about?"

"Yes, this is excellent!" He continued, rambling excitedly. He looked up at me with his hands clasped to his chest. "Do you think you could see your way clear to moving in with me?"

I was completely taken aback.

"W-_what_?" I stammered, unsure of how to respond. "Are you -"

"For a while now I've been searching for someone to share the cost of living expenses with me! It's perfect!" His eyes shone with enthusiasm. "Living on my own is too much. You must move in with me, I insist!"

"I... I... Uh..."

His grin was so wide it reached both ears and I hadn't the heart to deny him at least the chance to inspect the area.

"Great! Let's go, right now!"

"But... what about..." I glanced back towards the department of law enforcement.

"Oh, it'll only take a minute! Besides, the most interesting thing happening today would be the dead pigeon in the alley." He took me by the coat sleeve keenly. "Come on!"

* * *

"Twenty-two-one-B..." I murmured under my breath. Pines drew a key from his pocket, fumbling with it a little in his eagerness, and finally managed to open the door. He stepped aside to let me in.

I must admit, it was a fine looking interior. The design was so homey and comforting. Despite the visible age on the walls and doors, I had to come to the conclusion that I liked this place in the end. It was highly better than the small apartment I had been maintaining, after all.

It was at that moment that I began to question myself. Was I really considering going through with this arrangement?

"Mrs. Susan, meet my new colleague, Robbie," Pines announced, glancing around expectantly until he heard the clatter of dishes and a woman appeared in the doorway to the kitchen.

"Oh, a visitor?" She exclaimed, holding the broken pieces of a dish tenderly in her fingers. "How lovely! I'd shake your hand, but, uh..." she held up the remnants of the plate apologetically. "Pines doesn't get many visitors. Most people would say he's undesirable." She laughed. Then her expression turned serious. "You weren't brought here against your will, were you?"

"What? Oh, no. No, I was not."

"Oh, good." She seemed very relieved once the notion was out of the way. "So what brings you here?" She continued pleasantly, retreating back into the kitchen. "I'll fix you some tea, you just have yourself a seat there." I could hear the sounds of her busying herself with a kettle as I obeyed and lifted myself onto a wooden chair.

"Robbie's going to live here," Pines stated matter-of-factly, as if it had been decided weeks ago.

"Is he now? Well isn't that something." The kettle began to hiss.

"What? No, I didn't decide anything -"

Pines pulled up the seat beside me and stared right into my eyes. It was quite uncomfortable.

"Uh... what are you -"

"Robbie. This house is obviously a lot better than what you currently reside in, and quite a great deal more affordable than your current, too. Remember when I first met you, and I took your watch? It was plain to see that whenever you'd bought it, you had had a large amount of money. A gold watch is quite hard to come by."

"Well... it could have been a gift."

"Ah, yes, but gifts such as these usually have something more. An inscription, perhaps. A "congratulations" or a "to" and "from", but not yours. No, yours had quite a few scratches and dents, as if you weren't handling such expensive gold properly. And judging from your reaction coupled with how you didn't notice at all until I told you, it didn't exactly have sentimental value to it either. Now, it was easy to infer from this that, if indeed you had as much money as I'd suspected, you could have gotten the gold replaced or fixed with no trouble. But to keep a watch in such a neglected condition, could only mean one of two things - you have so much money you don't care for it, or you have such little money you _can't_ care for it." He smiled. "I think it's easy to see which theory I've gone with. And I turned out to be right."

"Hey, I could have plenty of money! You wouldn't know!"

"Oh, dear, have I insulted you?" He tilted his head quizzically. "I really must stop doing that. You are so sensitive to even the smallest of things."

I had the strongest urge to punch him in the throat at that moment.

"So?" He questioned, and I creased my brows.

"So what?"

"Have you decided yet?" His expression was expectant. "About our living arrangements?"

"Oh, yes, that." I sighed and ran a hand over my face. Despite all I would wish to argue, he was right. "Well... I guess I have no choice."

His face lit up with delight. "Great! Preparations begin as soon as possible - bring everything in tonight if you can manage!"

- x x x -

"In retrospect, maybe it was a bad move of me to be so excited about your agreement," Pines informs me. "You have proven to be quite the difficult house-mate."

"And you expect that you're any better?"

"Yes, quite considerably so."

Ah, he is a pain. But that's half the fun of it all.

Well, dear reader, until next time,

- _Robbie V_.


	3. A Study in Vermillion

**_Chapter 3 - A Study in Vermillion_**

At around two o'clock in the morning I was woken by the sound of violent music.

I rushed into the quarters which my companion most often occupied to find him standing, wide awake, and aggressively playing a violin.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" I snapped, curling my hands into fists by my side. "Don't you think it's too early for this?"

He turned to look at me, and a wide grin parted his lips.

"My dear Robbie," he said, "it is never too early for art."

Needless to say I confiscated the instrument and returned to my quarters to rest.

- x x x -

Dipper Pines worked the jackknife out of the mantle of his fireplace, and sifted through the papers that had been stuck underneath it.

"Come in, come in." He gestured to the seat opposite the one nearest to himself with his papers, grinning widely. "Make yourself at home." I dropped my bags beside the armchair and sat down heavily, just as Susan trotted into the room.

"Oh, Dipper, you've found yourself company!" She smiled, obviously delighted. "I was afraid you'd never be able to pay your bills."

"Yes, Mrs. Susan, and could you please put on a pot of coffee for us?" Pines remarked offhandedly, rifling through his sheets. "That would be great. Thanks."

"Only this once, dear. I'm your landlady, not your housekeeper."

"Black, no sugar."

"Yes, dear. Just this once."

Pines turned to me as she left, placing his hands on his hips. "Well, Mr. Robbie, how do you find the arrangement?"

"Debatable." I rested my cheek on my hand, propping myself against my elbow. "I find it debatable."

A shadow of amusement seemed to flicker over my companion's face before Susan came dashing in again, holding up a newspaper with both hands so that the front page faced us.

"Where's my coffee?" Pines questioned, looking somewhat upset. She waved his inquiry away and shook the paper in her hands.

"Look at this, honey! Seems right up your alley, doesn't it?"

With a raise of his eyebrow, Pines took the paper from her hands.

"Hm," he remarked after glancing over it. "Interesting."

"What does it say?" I inquired, lifting myself from the padded chair. Pines had already put the paper down onto the coffee table, and he rubbed his hands together as he circled around.

"Yes, interesting... _Very_ interesting..."

I lifted the newspaper and began to read the front. "A suicide case? So?"

"Yes, "so?" indeed." His eyes glimmered curiously. He turned to look up at me as soon as he heard a knock. " "So?" "So?" So why are the police knocking on my doorstep?" He grabbed his jacket off the sofa. "How would you feel about a little investigation, Robbie?"

"What, you actually want me to go with you?"

He was already halfway out the door, pulling his coat on. "Of course!"

* * *

"Look at this," Pines muttered, frowning disapprovingly as he inspected the muddy footpath with great attention. "They've made such a mess - trampled all over it."

"Can we help you?" A voice called, and we both turned to see a large, dark-skinned man in a police uniform beside a lankier, lighter one. "Oh. Dipper Pines." A scowl began to form on the larger man's face once he caught sight of my companion.

"You don't seem very pleased to see me, officer," Pines remarked, smirking just a little. "But then again, not many people really are, I've noticed."

"Maybe you should take the hint."

Pines ignored him and went straight to business - a trait I'd come to find myself familiar with before long.

"May I see the body?"

"Go ahead. Don't think you can tell us anything we don't already know, though."

Pines' smirk only grew.

We trekked up a flight of stairs leading to what I assumed was the master bedroom, the two police officers - who I had soon learned were "Blubs" and "Durland" - following not far behind.

"Oh, that's a powerful smell," I groaned, pinching my nose. "How long has he been dead?"

"From the looks of it, at least three days."

"Eugh, God." I curled my lip in disdain. "How you holding up, Pines?"

The boy glanced around the estate, at the walls, ceiling, floor. Then he began to inspect the belongings, and finally turned to the body.

"Have you moved it?" He demanded, his demeanor abruptly professional.

"No."

"Touched it?"

"No."

"Breathed near it?"

"Are you gonna get on with it or what?" The officer demanded, growing impatient.

"In time, gentlemen." Pines pulled out a magnifying glass from his coat pocket. He took the dead man's hand, turned it over, inspected his neck, studied his hair, made mental notes about his clothes and then stashed the tool away again. He turned back to the two policemen.

"You're investigating a murder, correct?" He questioned, so confidently and brusquely that the officers were almost inclined to agree with him.

"Ye- no, it was a suicide," Blubs rebuked, his eyebrows furrowing with steadily growing confusion.

"No."  
"What do you mean, no?"

When my colleague glanced at me, I knew from the look in his eyes what was about to come.

"Tell me, the way he is positioned here now. He is too far up on the bed - shot at this angle, he would have fallen backwards had he been standing... but his body is too high up. Was he sitting? No, he would have been sitting on the edge of the bed and even if he wasn't he would have sat on the bed with his legs crossed, not splayed out like so... The only conclusion? He was moved here."

"You got all that from the way he's lying on the _bed_?" I scoffed, crossing my arms.

"Yes."

"That's ridiculous."

"No it's not." Pines turned sharply on his heel to face Blubs and Durland. "Do you still believe it's a suicide?"

"Yes."

Pines rolled his eyes and looked to me. "Now, you see? _That's_ ridiculous."

* * *

"Why do they think it's a suicide? It's not a suicide - there's more evidence that it's a murder! Ugh, why can't they see that? Then again, if they could they wouldn't need me. Oh, but it's so frustrating, Robbie! Do you know what it feels like to want to grab somebody, shake them by the shoulders and just yell "shut up!"?"

"I'm getting an idea, yes."

Pines paced around the apartment, frustrated and seething.

"We're never going to catch this killer if they refuse to believe the evidence right under their noses! Oh, think, Dipper, think! There's got to be something else you could tell them - something more convincing..." He paused and closed his eyes, his arms behind his back and his shoulders stiff. "Yes, something more convincing..." He brought his hands to his face, tenting the fingertips almost as if in prayer.

His train of thought was interrupted by a quiet knock on the door, and Susan entered the room with a tray in her hands.

"Dipper, you haven't eaten all day," she chided lightly, setting the tray on the coffee table, the only remotely clean flat surface in the apartment. "Here - some tea. You shouldn't go starving yourself like you do."

"I don't eat when I'm working, Susan, you know that. Digesting slows me down."

The woman only shook her head with a smile and left the room.

"Well you might not be hungry, but I sure am." I leant over towards the table and grabbed a biscuit, but I overestimated my reach and knocked a cup off the tray with my arm. I sighed and stood up to collect the damage.

"Oh, I broke the handle off of it," I remarked, picking up said piece of ceramic. "We won't be using this anymore." Once I gathered all the shards I threw them away and inspected what was left. "I should go get a towel and clean up this mess."

"The handle..." Pines mused, his face vacant with thought. "Yes... the handle... and the butter-knife!" He seized the utensil and inspected it. "The handle and the butter-knife! Of course!" He grinned at me as he almost tripped on the carpet in his haste to leave. "Come along, Robbie, you genius! We're not finished yet!"

"But what are you talking about, the handle and the butter-knife?" I called, hurriedly pulling on my coat after him. "What do they mean?"  
"Oh, my dear Robbie, they mean _everything_!"

* * *

We arrived back on the scene of the crime in next to no time, the two officers from before again with us.

"Now, gentlemen, are you prepared?" Pines questioned, raising his eyebrows as he paused before the door to the apartment currently being investigated.

"For what?" Durland asked, his expression quizzical.

"For the truth." Pines gave a quick glance in my direction - probably looking for some approval at what he would probably see as a highly clever comeback - before he pushed open the door. "Please tell me you haven't touched anything other than to move the body out."

"No, we have not."

"Excellent." Pines grinned with obvious delight as he inspected the room for the second time around. "Yes... Just as I suspected!" He led us over to the coffee table. "The handle, gentlemen, is pointed to the left side."

"What use is that?" Blubs demanded, clearly confused.

"Well then let me point you to the butter-knife here." Pines picked it up and showed it to the two officers. "What do you see here?"

"A knife too blunt to be of any use to me," Blubs muttered.

"Pay attention, man! The butter is on the right side of the knife."

"What does that matter to us?" Durland demanded, both officers clearly becoming agitated by Pines' demeanor.

"Please, can't you see? This is a left-handed man's apartment. Officers, the wound was on the right side of his face. Why would a left-handed man shoot the right side of his face?"

Blubs shot Pines a glare from above his sunglasses. "Then who murdered him?"

"Ah, bravo, officer! Now you're asking the real questions!"

- x x x -

As it turns out, the man had been killed by his employer. Something about one too many late entrances and numerous days off that had finally accumulated over the course of some years. Pines managed to track the perpetrator down with little difficulty - there was a very small suspect list in this case. Or, at least, so he said. It is a wonder how his mind works, and I am sure I will never understand it.

Until next time,

- _Robbie V_.


End file.
